


Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale comforts Crowley, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Short & Sweet, Sleeping Together, excessive use of ellipses and dashes, very brief nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: Crowley passes out at the bookshop and Aziraphale puts him to bed, where he offers comfort after Crowley has a brief nightmare.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 86





	Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On

After a late dinner, they went to the bookshop for a nightcap, which somehow led to another, and another…until Crowley simply passed out on the sofa.

Aziraphale sat in his armchair, not very steady himself, and stared blankly at Crowley. Usually they both sobered up after a night of overindulgence, and his friend would very soberly drive home. _Now what?_ He couldn’t leave him like that – arms and legs splayed in all sorts of odd sprawling positions – that would surely be uncomfortable when he woke.

_Best sober up_. Aziraphale concentrated, watching the bottle refill, until he felt able to deal with reality.

He crossed to the sofa, knelt beside it, and gently shook Crowley’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Mmmph.” Crowley stirred, muttered something unintelligible, and remained solidly unconscious no matter how much Aziraphale poked and prodded.

_Botheration_. Crowley’s sunglasses had fallen onto the floor. He picked them up and set them on the coffee table. He sighed, and brushed a hand over Crowley’s cheek, then through his hair. “You are provoking, my dear.” _And beautiful. And all I want in all the world._

Aziraphale rose from the floor and went into the bedroom in the back of the shop. He pulled down the comforter and top sheet and fluffed up the pillows. Then he returned to the sofa, picked Crowley up as if he weighed nothing, and carried him to the bed, where he laid him down gently.

He didn’t imagine Crowley would appreciate sleeping in his street clothes, so with a snap of his fingers, Aziraphale changed them for a pair of silk pyjamas. Black, of course. He smiled. Perhaps he should make them white. Might teach him a lesson about how rude it was to pass out on other people’s sofas.

But he left them black, because he couldn’t quite bring himself to tease Crowley, not after all they’d been through together.

He pulled the top sheet up to Crowley’s chest. It was a warm night. The comforter could stay off.

Aziraphale went out to the shop again. He sat in the armchair for a while, trying to read and not getting farther than a paragraph or two before nodding into a drowsy, half-awake state. When his chin hit his chest he’d startle into wakefulness, and try again. After nearly an hour of dozing and starting awake, he gave up. He was tired. He needed sleep.

And the sofa, while comfortable enough, wasn’t _that_ nice for sleeping or he would have left Crowley there.

So he went to his bedroom, undressed, and donned a pair of blue satin pyjamas. He slid beneath the sheet, settling onto his back. Crowley hadn’t moved from where he’d left him, also on his back, breathing deeply.

_Probably not be happy when he wakes, and finds himself here_. Or would he like this intimacy? After all, Crowley had always been protective of him over the centuries, had shown his affection in countless little ways, and in the end – what had almost truly been the end – he had wanted them to run off to the stars together.

That didn’t seem terribly ambiguous.

Of course, he loved Crowley, and had for a long time. He really didn’t believe his friend had missed all the loving looks, or the way Aziraphale had constantly sought him out. Not exactly subtle.

With rather pleasant thoughts flitting through his mind, he slowly lost himself to sleep, and he dreamed, and he was entirely content in dreams and slumber.

Until a sudden moan drew him abruptly awake.

Crowley had moaned. He was rolling his head on the pillow as his fingers clutched at the sheet.

“No…” he muttered, eyes shut. “Don’t go…don’t leave me….” His whole body started to twist as he let out another, louder moan.

“Crowley, my dear…” Aziraphale leaned over to touch his shoulder. “Wake up.”

“You can’t leave me alone….”

Aziraphale shook him harder. “It’s a dream – wake up!”

Crowley’s right arm flung out from beneath the sheet, nearly hitting Aziraphale as he struggled to sit up, eyes now half-open. “What…where….”

“My room. It’s all right. You’re all right.”

Crowley looked round wildly, then grabbed Aziraphale’s arm as his eyes fully opened. “Angel!”

“Shh.” He tried to push him down. “Lie back.”

“You’re here….” Crowley suddenly took him into a fierce embrace that made Aziraphale gasp. “You’re here…don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“Shh.” Aziraphale held him tightly in return, stroking his back. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. You were dreaming. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You _did!_ ”

The ragged cry struck Aziraphale to the core as Crowley trembled beneath his touch. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

Crowley pulled away enough to look at him. Aziraphale nearly cried out at the grief in Crowley’s eyes, the utter sensation of loss. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Crowley looking vulnerable before – and then he remembered that he had. Only once, when he’d found his way back to him after discorporating.

_Loss_. “You had a nightmare.”

Crowley nodded, then released a long sigh. “Bookshop…I was in the bookshop again…on fire…and you were _gone_.”

Aziraphale stroked his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

“I could _always_ find you before.” A single tear coursed slowly down Crowley’s cheek. “You’re the only one I ever loved, and you were gone.”

“Don’t…I won’t….” Aziraphale brushed away the tear, though he couldn’t stop the ones filling his own eyes. “I am _here_.” He held Crowley’s face in both hands and kissed his forehead. “And I love you.”

Crowley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He loosened his embrace and gently wiped Aziraphale’s tears away. “I’m not dreaming….”

“No.” Aziraphale kissed the palm of his hand. He felt a shudder run through Crowley. “No more nightmares.”

“I hope not.”

Then Crowley looked round the room as if seeing it for the first time – which, Aziraphale realized, was true. “Angel…how did I get in your bed?”

Aziraphale relaxed at Crowley’s more normal tone. “Well, you passed out on the sofa, and didn’t look comfortable, so I brought you in here.”

“In pyjamas?” Crowley fingered the black silk top. “How did you know what I wear to bed?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Educated guess.”

Crowley touched the angel’s blue satin pyjama top. “That’s nice.”

“Thank you.”

Crowley’s hand moved slowly over the satin, then slipped inside to caress Aziraphale’s chest, a warm hand on bare skin. “This is nice, too.”

Aziraphale shivered at the tenderness of the touch. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as Crowley followed with a kiss – his lips caressed the bare skin of his chest, then trailed up to his throat. _Bliss_.

He opened his eyes as Crowley broke the contact. More – there had to be more.

Crowley looked at him, eyebrows raised in a questioning manner, as if seeking approval. “Do you want to—“

Aziraphale didn’t let him finish. He pushed Crowley down onto his back and leaned over him, and then he kissed him quite fully and unambiguously on the mouth.

“Urmph,” Crowley mumbled when he’d finished. “I guess you do.” He slid a hand behind Aziraphale’s head and pulled him in again for another lengthy exploration.

So many years…Aziraphale could not get enough. Too many years of waiting, of longing, of hoping. He kissed Crowley with a passion that had been building for centuries, a passion that surprised him, not knowing angels were even capable of such fierce love, but he was – he did – he _needed_ to love Crowley this way, with all the intensity of a long abated storm – there was lightning unleashed and thunder unchained as he delved into Crowley’s heart and soul and body.

And that was only a kiss.

He gasped as they parted. Crowley lay beneath him, breathing hard, golden eyes wide. “ _Angel…_ ” He put a hand on Aziraphale’s chest. “You…how…what….”

“Hush.” He lay his hand on top of Crowley’s. “That was a cure for nightmares.”

“ _Damn._ ” Crowley shook his head. “To hell with nightmares. To hell with dreaming – I don’t even want to sleep.”

“Good. Neither do I.” He brought Crowley’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “As I said before, I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”

He stretched out alongside Crowley, and they lay facing each other, foreheads touching, bare chests touching, with silk against satin, and they began a night of loving caresses that wove into the dawn.

And they never did fall asleep.


End file.
